


And It Starts Again

by Aries (TwinSouls)



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Akira is not really a key player but he's important, Akira is so good, I love writing stream of consciousness though, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Ryo having an existential crisis, Ryo is a confused baby, Ryo talks to himself, Satan being creepy, Stream of Consciousness, This was a very interesting fic to write, Weird imagery, free him, it is pretty bizarre so be prepared for that, minor violent imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17639882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinSouls/pseuds/Aries
Summary: When everything falters, what is left?What is one supposed to do when it happens again?Everything has a new beginning, and Ryo is never prepared.





	And It Starts Again

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh, this was a ton of fun to write! I think there is nothing I love more than to pick Ryo's brain when writing him. This is based on the stream of consciousness sort of writing style, my personal headcanons that Satan and Ryo are separate entities living in one body, and a fanart I did.
> 
> Enjoy!

When everything falters, what is left? What is one supposed to do when it happens again?

Ryo pondered questions well into the night. Head pounding. Blood rushing. It was too loud, too overwhelming  
_So much blood._

Streams turn into rivers, rivers into oceans. He’s drowning. He can't cry, not even for help. He’s supposed to be passive. 

(I can't breathe)

Hands squeezing around a throat, a mouth agape with no sound coming out other than a wheezing gasp for air.

How many times?  
How many has it been?  
How many-

“You can let go.” A voice persuades him, a hand that feels as soft as cotton drapes over his shoulder. There was barely any pressure, always such a light ghosting of a touch. It was so delicate, as if a single touch would shatter the fine porcelain.

_He wanted it to shatter._

His voice never rose, it was always soft and melodic. Never cross, never anything.  
Whenever the figure pressed him, it was always so delicate. Never rough. He didn't want Ryo to break.  
(Not yet.)

* * *

He thought he was alone at last.

(You were never alone)

* * *

Satan laughed, and it was piercing. Ryo could see the crimson expanse of ocean water for miles, a broken world that he had created. The heat from the fires of ruin singed his skin, and Ryo was certain he would never feel anything again.

He did this.

It was his fault.

“I thought I taught you that love does not exist.” Satan chastised, the words sounding more like a passing thought. “It's your own fault that you let yourself get hurt.”

_It doesn't-_

Satan's eyes bore into his soul. “Humans are just pawns. To be used. To be discarded.”

The sound of the heads of those dolls falling would haunt him for eternity. The clattering of a fallen chess piece, of bowling pins knocked down for sport.  
That's what this was, a game.  
The child's playthings were just broken and discarded.  
Like they meant nothing.

Ryo knew what they were.

Who they were.

What they stood for.

Mere pawns.

(The Earth is our playground, Ryo)  
(You do not need them, you are a God now)

* * *

Akira walked into the blinding light, and Ryo longed to follow. His feet were cemented to the floor, stubborn ivy curling around his calves to hold him in place. Every word died on the tip of his tongue, his throat like coarse sandpaper. Every sound he could even manage had a horrible price.

 

“Why?” Akira cried, tears unstoppable.

Why--

Ryo didn't know. He couldn't answer. The anguish burned.  
_He doesn't know._  
(You will never know)

“Why?” Ryo asked Satan, the bell that tolled for those who were damned echoing through the expanse of the empty plane. Nothing stood anymore.

_Just like the dolls._

_It was not always this empty._

 

The sound of the motorcycle engine rumbled in Ryo's heart, the city life fading into a blur. The wind passed through them, the bike's front tire cutting through like a sharp knife. Ryo didn't know when he had put his arms around Akira, but he didn't want to let go. He was talking about something related to their research, but Ryo didn't care enough to listen to his own blabbering.

_He wasn't the one speaking, anyway._

“Why do you ruin everything?” Ryo sobbed. “Why does it always have to end like this? How many times must we suffer, until it's right?”  
(You are not the only one who suffers)

* * *

Satan curled around the corpse of Akira, tears falling as he screamed with a mouth full of broken glass, sobs filled with the gargling of blood. Ryo only stared at the broken earth and the shattered moon.

_The moon is beautiful, isn't it, Akira?_

His fingers were numb, everything was so cold. He could hear Satan's sniffling, and Ryo fought the urge to curse.

“I killed the rabbit on the moon, Akira.”

(There aren't any rabbits.)

_Liar._

The weight of sins bore heavy, and it tilted the scales of judgement.

“Where is the justice in this!?” Ryo cried, staring at the fallen angel who hung his head.

Akira looked like a doll, dangling in Satan's arms.  
He was posed in some sort of blasphemous rendition of the Pietá. 

_What a sick joke._

“Justice?” Satan croaked, looking up at Ryo.

“There is no Justice.”

(I killed him.)

* * *

“Do you believe in God?” Akira asked Ryo one day as he was stretched out on his couch, causing the man to pause from typing on his computer. The sound of computer keys sometimes being the only sound he would hear for weeks. The dark haired figure looked like a sunbathing feline, black shirt ridden up to expose more skin to the rays of light that shone through Ryo's windows.

“I did. Once.”  
_He didn't think twice._

(He is no benevolent being.)

_And neither are you._

* * *

Ryo clung to the remnants of Akira's body, feeling it crumble right through his fingers. Dry and cracked like the desert. His tears created tiny reflective pools on Akira's cheeks, a mockery of the man's former glory.

A selfish part of him hoped the tears would revitalize the arid mess he made. To fix the broken and neglected love of his life.  
(Stop lying to yourself.)

_Who's lying now?_

* * *

I'm tired.  
(So am I.)  
I want to go home.  
(What home?)  
I want to see my father.

(Your father does not exist.)

Is this what dying feels like?  
(No, this is what living is.)  
What a cruel life.

(What a cruel God, to allow this to happen.)

You are the one who made him suffer.  
(I am not the one who pulled the trigger.)  
If I destroy myself, will it destroy you too?  
(Why don't you find out?)

I'll have one more cigarette, then.

The smoke billowed past his lips, rising up like steam from a bowl of rice.  
_Like the remnants of an explosion._

* * *

Ryo stood there as the world reformed, receding and shifting back into how it was supposed to be.  
But what is left?  
What continues from before? Does anything live on?

(All we can do is forget.)

As memories slip away, he reached for the bright, unyielding sky. What is there to do?  
“I don't want to forget.”

_I don't want to-_

A hand. 

Small.

Pale.

It reached out for him. He felt a sense of kindness, of invitation. It peeled away the darkness around him that made that sky so blinding, yet alive. It warmed the air around him that had been stabbing at his skin with bitter, icy cold.

“Are you alright?” The young boy asked, and Ryo felt something sting his eyes.

_Why won't they come out?_

His hand met with the boy's, and he saw that it was small, as well. 

They melded together in an innocent embrace, and it was

Warm. 

It filled his body as it spread from his chest. He had felt this before, some time ago, because of the same boy. 

The same kindness.

The same-

(Akira…)

* * *

“Oh.”

_I think I understand._

(This is the feeling…)

When everything falters, this is what is left. When all things happen again, all that can be counted on is

Him.

Akira.

_Akira.._

(Akira…)

-  
-  
-  
-

“Please, don't leave me.”


End file.
